Out of the Ashes
by WatchingTheAngels
Summary: AU. Castiel, the son of a preacher, is unsure about everything, Dean is raising Sammy by himself and Sam... is Sam. High school just sucks.
1. Chapter 1

Authors note: This is my first fic. Only chapter one! Comments are greatly appreciated! 

Title: Out Of The Ashes (1/?)

Disclaimer: I do not own these wonderful men or anything that had to do with Supernatural.

Rating: NC-17, this part

Warnings: AU, so no spoilers that I can think of.

Chapter 1

The scream was one Castiel knew from childhood, but the fear behind it grated his heart.

Anna was in trouble.

Castiel threw his books and backpack to the ground and darted toward where he heard the sound come from. He couldn't see in the dark well enough past the shine of the streetlight to know who the people with her were, but Castiel knew that Anna would not make such a sound unprovoked.

Castiel threw himself at the men holding her, startling them for the few seconds it would take to have her slip from their grasp. The harsh yank on his shoulder gave way to a popping sound and Castiel had to grit his teeth from gasping at the flash of immediate pain.

"Anna, run!" He shouted in her direction as tried to wrestle his way out of his captors rough arms.

Anna yelped as the other man made a grab for her. Her face was swollen from the tears that streamed down her cheeks and her clothes were mud-ridden. She ran toward the town, shouting that she was going to call the police for help to assure Castiel.

"Oh, you really will regret helping that bitch." The man at his back growled as his companion came back and took the leaders' hold so he could come around front and glare at Castiel properly. "You'll wish you hadn't."

Castiel whimpered, he couldn't help it.

Dean rode in the Impala, his baby. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel to the beat of one of his favorite songs as he glided over the roads a smidgen over the speed limit. The music level was high; almost enough to travel to the houses he was passing. He was just taking a left onto the road that lead to the park as the song ended. The next song began to blare to life and he smiled.

Dean was just past the water fountain and getting near the edge of the small patch of woods centered in the park when he heard a disorienting cry. Confused, he turned the volume of the tape down and slowed to a crawl as another hurt shout sounded.

Not knowing whether or not he was needed, he pulled over. Parking the Impala the best he could in the midget space available, he looked out toward the forest and listened.

One more cry and he would go out there. There was some part of him that wanted to help if someone was a victim, no matter if he knew them or not. It was something he and his brother, Sam, had ingrained into their systems as much as having the will to keep breathing.

As soon as Dean had concluded that the screams must have been those of any kid causing a ruckus on a Friday night just having fun, another bellow echoed through the trees, a terrible plea. Without a second thought Dean was out of the car, the door swinging closed harshly behind him. He stampeded toward the trees as fast as his legs could carry him.

Arms pumping heavily at his sides, he turned onto the twisting path of the woods and kept running, his breathing fast and measured. Just as he turned around the second bend he saw something that gave him pause.

The boy that always sat at the back of his writing class was being held against the ground face down. His arms were being held out in front of him, a man's grasp no doubt bruising the pale skin that lay over the fragile bones, while his companion thrust into him from behind. The boy he knew was crying, full on sobbing into the grass, his voice being choked by the grass, snot, and gasps of pain.

Being spurred on by another loud cry, Dean ran towards them.

"Hey! What the fuck is going on?" he shouted as he approached from still a distance away.

Seeing him, the other men jumped and fled, one tugging up his pants as he ran.

Having to decide whether to help the boy or catch the rapists, Dean's heart clenched. He couldn't leave him alone in the middle of the woods while he chased the men; his instincts were to stay. As he neared the boy, he noticed he had curled into himself, shuddering from the force of his silent sobs.

Dean stopped. He could go with him later to make a statement.

Dean made sure the boy's eyes were in sight of him before he nudged his way forward and spoke softly. "Hey. Hey man, let me help you..."

Dean leaned in and rested his hand on the boys shoulder and he screamed.

"Whoa, whoa. I'm not going to hurt you. My name is Dean Winchester. We have writing together with Mrs. Tumell?" Dean tried to comfort him with calming words the best he could, but the boy just wasn't paying attention. He still had his body curled and his arms were not sure where they were needed most, covering his body or his face.

"We should get you to a hospital."

"No! No hospital..." he came around at that. The light that was always in the back of his blue eyes shone bright with fear for a few moments before it died again. "Please, no. I don't want to. They didn't..." He let the sentence hang as he groaned, drawing his knees to his chest further. He cleared his throat a little to remove the mucus from his lungs and tried again. "They didn't finish."

Dean looked away for a moment to busy himself with trying to find something he can give him to clean his face off with better than his muddy arms and clothes. How could someone do this to a person who couldn't put up a fight? Do it at all? The guy never did anything. He sure as hell didn't deserve this for being so quiet.

Finding nothing in his pockets, Dean shrugged off his leather jacket, letting it fall to the grass as he yanked off his shirt and bundled it into a ball. He didn't hesitate from pressing it to the boys face and gently wiping some of the dirt from his face's cheeks.

"You really should go to the hospital. But I won't make you." He coaxed the boys hand from his side and began to clean it. "You do need to go somewhere safe. I can give you a ride home if you want."

The word home seemed to drive a silvered stake through the boys already hurt heart. His eyes flashed with such fear and desperation that Dean felt like an ass for even bringing it up.

"Or... I could give you a place to stay for the weekend. Just until you... you know." Dean was such a heel. He worked on cleaning the other hand and arm as the owner seemed to make up his mind.

"Don't bring me home."

Dean paused. He had never really heard his voice before, a dark, rich chocolate that melted as it reached his ears and waves of anger hit him because the taste of it was tainted by pain.

"Okay." Was all Dean said as he waited with his back turned as the boy shimmed his jeans back up and clasped them. When he was ready, the boy came around to Dean's side. Dean draped his jacket over the boy's shoulders and caught him flinching as if he were expecting to get hit. Letting it go, Dean lead the way back to the Impala.

"I need... I need to pick up my things." The guy mumbled as he buckled his seat belt, flinching in pain and adjusted how he was sitting in the seat.

"Where'd you leave it?"

"I dropped it as I was running." He evaded.

"Running from those bastards?" Dean asked.

"No." Was all his companion replied. He gave directions to where they were to go and Dean pulled out of the meager spot with ease.

As they traveled to Dean's, Dean couldn't help but wonder what the hell the guy had been doing. Why did that happen to him? If Dean hadn't happened by, the guy would still be laying there, of this he was sure. The strongest question that flew through his mind and the one he tried his hardest to not look at too in depth was what the hell was he supposed to tell his brother about him?

When Castiel and Dean arrived at Dean's very humble apartment that was shared with his brother Sam, they both still hadn't said a word besides Castiel telling Dean what his name was when questioned. Castiel had no idea what to say to Dean. Dean had saved him from continued abuse from the men who were going to get lucky somehow.

Castiel had interfered partially because he loved his sister and never wanted anything to happen to her, and partially because me would always take the pain for all his siblings. He was used to it. His father was the head parish priest in town. Father Novak. Although his father loved all his children, he always blamed Castiel for the death of his mother. Castiel was the last Novak to be born; his mother died from birthing complications with him. Father also had quite a drinking habit, and he would remind him every time he took in a bit too much that Castiel was a demon sent to him by the Lord to test his patience when sober and ability to cast out spawn from the Earth.

So far, Father hadn't succeeded in either state.

Castiel didn't know how to feel for invading Dean's life like this. He felt entirely uncomfortable and told such feelings in the tenseness of his shoulders.

"I do appreciate this, Dean Winchester, but I believe this is too much. You can just drive me back to my home..."

"Castiel, no. You're here already and there's a warm bed and hot shower here calling out your name. Stay the night at least." Dean's emerald gaze bore into Castiel's blue sapphires, the earnest wish to comfort him a living pulse in his eyes.

Castiel lowered his gaze from the intensity and nodded once. "Yes. Of course." He winced when he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Just for one night."

Dean couldn't believe that Castiel was the guy's name. It seemed so old, so important. So noticeable, which was anything other than what the guy really was. Basic shirts and regular jeans created a mirage for him to blend into the crowd. It was such a good disguise that even Dean hadn't really noticed him when he first transferred to this school. Well, that wasn't exactly true. That first day in Mrs. Tumell's class had been enough for Dean to notice Castiel, but only for a moment. Castiel had looked up, his blue eyes piercing in their intensity as they tried to weight and measure him, and apparently Castiel had found him wanting, for he had looked back down at his papers as quickly as he had looked up at the sound of Dean's voice.

Now, a month later, Castiel was looking at him again with those eyes, that intensity. Dean kept his green eyes away from those captivating pools as much as he could. He almost couldn't stand the trust they showed.

"Come on." Dean said, leading the way to the front door, keys dangling noisily from his fingertips.

Castiel followed without a sound. After the doors' three locks were undone, the door was pushed back to reveal a small, cramped, cozy place that was rich with the feel of home. The small apartment had nothing Castiel's house had save one thing; love. It felt like the inhabitants loved each other, and were both alike. A small jacket, almost identical to Deans, sat in the edge of the chair by the entrance. There were missed shots of late night take out wrappers littering the kitchen floor by the trash can and three plates set up for dinner on the small square table.

"Hey Sammy." Dean calls to the mop of brown hair sitting on the couch, glaring at the television.

"Hey Dean." Sam called back, looking just to make sure he's fully intact, doing a double take when he realized there's a man next to him. He just stared for a few moments, almost unbelieving that there was anyone that could stand being around Dean besides him. After a shake of his head to clear his thoughts and blinking twice, he smiled. "Hey! I'm Sam." He waved slightly and smiled again, showing teeth.

Castiel shifted his feet and murmured a greeting.

"Cas is gunna stay for the night. Project." Dean explained as he gently persuaded his leather jacket off Castiel and threw it on Sammy's.

"Awesome." Sammy nodded then turned back to his show.

"Do you wanna go shower while I go do dinner?" Dean asked then paused. Housewife much?

Castiel hadn't noticed anything wrong with the statement like Dean had.

"I can make dinner after my shower if you would like." Castiel said quietly.

"No. Cas, you're a quest. There's no way you're making my dinner." Dean tilted his head slightly in question. "Do you like spaghetti?"

"Spaghetti would be wonderful, thank you." Castiel replied as Dean made his way to the saddest version of a kitchenette Cas has ever seen.

As he made his way to the bathroom, he was stunned that he actually felt at home with a complete stranger and the guys brother.

While Castiel was showering, Dean had Sammy quietly enter the bathroom and retrieve Cas's dirty clothes and switch them with some of Dean's. As the spaghetti boiled and bubbled, Dean stirred the sauce and tried his best to remember why he would bring a complete stranger into his ramshackle of a home that he shared with his only living relative.

And why the hell would Sammy not complain for company? Dean could have sworn Sammy was bothered for a split second before his smile, the smile that even Dean rarely gets to see, shone over his little face and greeted Cas like a lost friend.

Castiel just had a traumatizing experience and all Dean could do was admit him entrance into what little home he had and help him any way he could. That's what his family had taught him. That's what his mother had taught him.

Besides, Cas seemed to be in a lot of pain, and not just the physical kind that he experienced tonight. A deep-seated harassment of his soul must have happened to make him so sad and recluse. Something awful and detrimental to any person's mind.

Shaking his head to clear it of someone elses problems, Dean stirred the spaghetti and stole a piece from the pot. Tasting it and finding it to be damn near perfect, he drained the pot and checked the sauce.

Castiel nearly tripped over the pile of folded clothes that sat outside the curtain as he stepped out of the shower, still sopping wet. Castiel picked up the shirt and sighed; Dean was a bigger man than he was, with all those muscles corded around his bones. He dragged it on over his skin. Castiel chuckled once as he tugged the front of it out and saw an immense stretch of fabric. He quickly tugged the jeans on, grunting slightly as pain assailed him as the denim caressed his backside roughly.

Leaving the bath towel on the edge of the hamper, folded, he opened the door and stepped out.

Following his nose, Castiel found Dean hovering over a pot of red. Cas stepped up to Dean from the side and leaned against the counter, careful not to touch the edge with the seat of his pants.

"Were you expecting company?" Castiel asked quietly so he didn't attract Sam's attention.

"Huh? No." Dean replied as he stirred the sauce. "Why?"

Cas tilted his head toward the table, creating a puppy-like appearance to his face. "There were already three places set."

Dean sighed a breath he seemed to have been holding for a few moments too long. His shoulders sagged, resigned. "Our father... left us. He had been happy we thought, but with our mother having left about a year before, he found it to be an easy way to be rid of us. We would have had to go to an adoption agency, but I got a job at the mechanic's shop around the corner and the owner gave me a deal on this place. I needed to keep Sammy safe. I needed to keep Sammy with me." With Cas nodding in understanding, Dean continued. "Sammy still believes that there is a small chance that Dad will come home, so he likes to have a place there, just in case."

Castiel was silent, mulling over the out-pour of Dean's life and sealing it away in his brain. When it seemed there was nothing to say in reply, Castiel asked, "What may I retrieve for the table?"

Dean told him just some salt and pepper and something to drink from the fridge. Castiel saw that there was beer and flinched slightly at what he knew it could do to a person. He set that thought aside and snatched up the bottle of Coke. Setting the pieces on the tabletop, he waited for dinner.

"Dean, this is lovely." Castiel commented after the first few bites. Then, in a lower voice said, "I don't think I've had a meal made for me in years."

Sammy was chomping away at the noodles. Slurping the ends into his mouth as noisily as he could.

Dean nodded his acknowledgment to Castiel as he brought another forkful slathered in sauce to his lips. Awkwardness covered them in a stifling blanket. Castiel dropped his head to avoid making eye contact.

"So, Cas. What classes do you have with Dean?" Sammy questioned between bites.

"Writing. I am rather good at that." Cas replied.

"Huh." Sammy scrunched up his face a moment then took another bite. As another thought occurred to him, he asked another question. "How old are you?"

"Sammy, no more questions." Dean commanded with a slight growl.

"Okay."

Not another minute went by before he asked, "Are you gay?"

"God dammit, Sam!" Dean shouted, then froze. He was blushing slightly, his shoulders tense from holding his position so he didn't cross the table and grab Sam by the shirt and send him to his room.

But he was also curious for the answer.

Castiel was a frightened bird. His eyes were round globes of oceans. "It wouldn't matter if I were or weren't."

They resumed eating in silence.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Out Of The Ashes (2/?)

Disclaimer: I do not own these wonderful men or anything that had to do with Supernatural.

Rating: PG-13, this part

Warnings: AU, so no spoilers that I can think of.

Castiel had demanded in his quiet way to help clean up, admitting that at his house he was the only one ever in the kitchen doing chores. Dean allowed the help, but kept a watchful eye on the newcomer. Sammy was back in front of the television, watching a documentary on some ancient civilization that lived forever ago and only ashes remained. Those shows always fascinated him and kept him from being like Dean when he was that age, so he silently allowed the boring things to flicker across the screen, Sammy the sponge taking in every word happily.

When all was clean and the chairs pushed back in, Castiel threaded his fingers together, shifting them around and undoing them nervously. Dean turned to him caught the tic.

"So." Dean began, "there are only two bedrooms, and one is Sammy's. I'm not going to make him give that up, understandably, so you can take mine. I can sleep on the floor." Castiel opened his lips to protest but he continued. "The couch hurts to be on for too long to everyone except that thing."

"Hey." Sammy cried, sounding hurt by the comment, from his perch on the middle cushion.

Dean gave him a face. "The floor is fine for me, Cas. No worries. I've done it plenty of times for Sammy and dad when we were growing up."

Sighing, Castiel nodded. "Alright. I wish you would reconsider, but this is your place and I will do as you wish." He tilted his head slightly, looking like a curious bird. Or puppy, like Sammy. "I wonder, might I be able to use your phone? I should tell my sister that I am alright."

"Yeah." Dean pulled the device from his pocket and placed it on the table in between them. "Talk as long as you want."

Castiel said thank you, took the phone, and stepped outside. The air was crisp, charged with the electricity of an upcoming storm, the touch of a flame seemingly able to set off the lightening and tear apart the clouds. The sky was rimmed with water, the drops ready and willing to fall. Leaning against the wall beside the door, he tapped the buttons and dialed his sister's cell phone number.

"Hello?" She asked happily after the second ring.

"Anna. It's Castiel."

A pause hung over the line before she seemed to understand it was really him. "Castiel, where are you? After I called the police, they came to the park and no one was there! What the heck happened?"

He moved off the wall and touched his hands to the railing overlooking the parking lot. Claustrophobic he was not, but the feeling of being confined itched at him.

"I'm at a friends. He found me after the men left. I have few scraps, but other than that I'm fine." He lied. There was no reason to worry her further.

"You should have waited for the police."

"Please, don't start. I called to inform you that I am alright and will be home tomorrow." Castiel closed his eyes tight and leaned his back toward the floor, stretching the muscles in his back and legs, trying to loosen them.

Anna sighed into the receiver. "I wish you would come home. Father's not happy with you gone. He wants you here."

'Only him?' he thought. Clenching his other hand slightly, he replied, "Father will understand my absence." Not the reason for it, he thought to himself. No, Father never understood anything that was not his words or his Bible.

"Perhaps you would speak with him?" She asked hopefully.

"I'm sorry, I'm on someone elses phone and the woman says I'm almost out of minutes." He spoke in a dead tone. Castiel hated it when Anna did this to him. She always tried to guilt him with her sweet voice to bend to her will; just like their father. She was just better at it and he couldn't say no to her.

"Fine, Castiel. But if Father is mad at you when you do crawl back to the doorstep tomorrow, It's not my fault. I warned you."

_Click._

Dean threw the sheet out, the only clean sheet left, and settled it around the sides of the mattress. He tossed a folded comforter on the end of the bed and set out creating his own bed on the floor.

Luckily, he was a rather clean guy, keeping two piles of clothes in separate ends of the room; one clean, one a makeshift hamper. It was just too much work folding and tucking away clothes that would just be used again in the very near future. He grabbed the two blankets that were on the bed before and set them out on the carpet, sleeping-bag-style.

Whatever. It would work for one night.

He accomplished all of this in a short amount of time, so he went out to sit with Sammy and badger him until he relinquished the remote. No way was Dean watching any crap about some dead guys.

As he plopped alongside his brother, however, all he could think about was Castiel and how odd the situation was. Cas was raped tonight for God's sakes and all he can ask is to call his sister and tell her he's okay? He was hurt, tortured, mercilessly raped and all he wants as help from Dean is a ride home? For all Dean knew, Cas was used to never having anyone help him and this just makes Dean infuriated as it obviously makes Cas nervous and awkward.

What the hell did that statement at dinner mean, anyway? It wouldn't matter if I were or weren't gay? Of course it doesn't _really_ matter, not when thought of as sin or something. Hell no. It should matter to Cas though. He should care if he's homosexual or not, so he knows what he likes and doesn't.

It matters to Dean.

Well, only kind of. Dean has been out from between the coat hangers for a while now. Basically, after dad left there was no reason to hide it anymore with the scent of women and the presence of kiss-swollen lips covered in lipstick.

It was only that Cas was a person devoid of hope. Hope that he can be happy. Hope that he can find love.

It didn't matter that Dean wanted to kiss the nervous lips that twitched when he heard any noise over a conversational tone.

Not at all.

"Sammy, what the hell? This is crap." Dean waved his hand toward the television as if his point was made that easily.

Sammy shrugged. "'snot."

"Hmm." Mumbling, he grabbed the remote and started surfing.

"Hey, I was watching that!" Sammy spat.

Dean flipped through a few more channels before he sighed, defeated. Flipping back to the crap that was entertaining to his brother, he set the remote down and huddled in for a boring night.

A few minutes went by before Sam became comfortable again. A few more minutes went by before his brother leaned against his shoulder lightly. Smiling, Dean curled his arm lovingly around his brother. Sammy was soon out, having found the comfort he was seeking, his head resting on Dean's chest, his legs curling up for a more comfortable position. The brothers hadn't shared a chick flick moment like this since before their father died, and even then it didn't happen often. Dean didn't mind the chickness of it though; this reminded him that even after all they'd been through, they still trusted each other. That was enough for Dean to let go of his pride for a little while.

_Author's Note: This is so AU it's insane, but it's fun to write. The brothers kinda needed a moment, right? Drop me a line telling me what you think! Thanks for reading! More soon!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's note: Thank you all for your reviews! Thanks to those who pointed out grammatical errors, I'll fix them. If anyone is interested in being a beta for me, please let me know! Again, I really appreciate all of you guys! I basically have the plot figured out, but if you have any suggestions or something you want to see, feel free to let me know and I'll see what I can do. Thank you for reading! _

Title: Out Of The Ashes (3/?)

Disclaimer: I do not own these wonderful men or anything that had to do with Supernatural.

Rating: NC-17, this part

Warnings: AU, so no spoilers that I can think of.

Everyone went to bed when they were ready to pass out. Castiel almost whimpered when he drew the plush covers up to his chin and shimmied down as far as he could, hiding his head. Sammy went next, sprawling out on the mattress to cover as much space as humanly possible and snoring. Dean fell into his covers on the floor about an hour later, sleeping instantly.

Dean woke with a start. Well, to be truthful, it only resulted in a moments consciousness before he fell back into a mostly sleeping state. Realizing he was in need of the facilities, he climbed to his feet and made the torturous journey to the bathroom.

After flushing and washing his hands he made his way to the door, not remembering why the hell he had curled up on the floor in the first place. He yawned and stretched, feeling the loosening of his frustrated body. Rubbing his stomach absently he roamed the very short hallway to Sam's room and checked on his little brother as he did every night he woke. Seeing Sammy snore softly against the pillow was enough to confirm he was still alive and Dean crawled back to his room.

He tossed his pillow back onto the bed and wrapped the covers around himself. Once again in his cocoon of warmth, he quickly fell asleep.

Sammy grumbled. He tossed and grumbled again.

Darn sun. Darn himself for not closing the curtains.

Whatever. He was up now and his tummy was rumbling, telling him breakfast was a must as well as a trip to the bathroom.

He used the facilities then decided to take a shower. Sam stripped his sweatpants off and climbed into the tub, the shower head slathering him with burning water. Soon after washing himself he turned so the back of his neck was taking the brunt of the spray and began to wonder about Dean's friend. Dean never had friends, that was the thing. He was the loner kind. Not really by choice, he just didn't like to take shit from others. Sammy smirked at the memories of the pranks they played on each other.

And yeah, sure, he'd had a few girlfriends when dad was here, then a few flings with some guys when dad had left, but nothing serious. He was always happier with the guys and when he told Sammy that he was gay, he wasn't really surprised. He always thought the girls were to appease dad. Dean had been happy for a while, and Sam liked it best when his brother was happy.

Yet he seemed uncomfortable around Castiel. Why would he allow someone he didn't like to come home with him? Unsure where this was all going in his mind, Sam turned the water off and stepped out.

He tugged his change of pants on and slipped on his shirt as he walked to the kitchen.

A quick perusal of the cupboards informed him there was only cereal, his favorite, and bacon and eggs, Deans favorite.

Figures.

Sammy decided he was hungry for something solid and hot so bacon and eggs it was. He pulled out the frying pan with his tongue between his teeth, a severe look of concentration on his face. Setting the heat and tugging the plastic off the meat, he began to crack eggs and cook. The food was ready in a few minutes, the aroma of cooked fat and scrambled eggs slathered the room in an aroma that slithered down the hall. He could still smell it as he reached Dean's door and turned the knob. As the door swung open, he was wide eyed, shocked slightly but not really all that surprised.

The boys on the bed awoke at the sound.

They were obviously surprised.

Dean awoke gently to his favorite scent in the world; bacon. The smell imbedded in his brain, dragging him from dreams that were quickly forgotten at the prospect of getting some of that self-indulgence down his throat and into his stomach. He tried to sit up but found he couldn't. He squeezed the body closer, more against his body, brushed the longish hair back and gently kissed the forehead. The body shimmied closer, absorbing the nice touch. At first he thought it was Sammy, perhaps having slipped into bed with him in the middle of the night as he still does some nights, but felt the weight on his chest to be more than he remembered. Opening his eyes and looking down, he caught a mouthful of silky black hair. His mind froze, his body along with it.

There was a man in his bed.

A man he didn't remember bringing home.

A man that was now stirring in his arms. Arms that quickly dropped from around him, brain finally finding room around the hunger to realize that Castiel was in his bed, wrapped up in his arms.

Shit.

He heard the door swing open and saw Sammy staring at him, first with shocked, round eyes, then with a knowing smirk.

"Breakfast." Was all his little brother said before turning happily on his heal and going back down the hall toward the food.

Dean had felt Castiel stiffen, his body ready for rejection while his fingers clutched Deans arms lightly as if pleading to stay. The smaller mans head slowly turned to face the owner of the body he was clutching to, sapphires blazing with heat, a hot, molten lava that begged for acceptance and comfort.

"Morning." Dean said softly as he forcefully loosened his body's tension. He had to admit that waking to someone who gave him that chick flick moment was well worth the happiness.

Castiel withdrew from the embrace they were in until they were no longer touching, flushing a delicate red. "I apologize. That should not have happened." His fingers fiddled with the blanket laying on him, and when Dean laid his hand upon his shoulder he winced, expecting a slap instead of an embrace. Dean took his other hand and rested his fingers on the underside of Castiel's chin. He turned the mans head until it faced him and didn't say a word until those eyes rested on his again. Dean moved his hand from shoulder to face, moving his thumbs up and down Castiel's cheeks, coaxing those eyes to close with a smile. "I really think you should stop apologizing."

Dean dropped a hand after a moment.

"I must have moved up here during the night."

"So it would seem."

A light silence rang between them, both listening to the sound of the television in the living room. Dean touched Castiel's elegant fingers with his fingertips, a featherlight brush that had Cas's cheeks turn that red color again. Chuckling, Dean carded their fingers together.

"Breakfast?" Dean asked.

Castiel's face lightened to the point that one side of his mouth drew up in a smile. "That would be nice."

Absolutely nothing happened that day for any of the boys in the apartment. That night found Dean on the hated couch and Castiel in the bed.

It was one of the best days they had all had in a while.

_I had to remove his hand. It wasn't proper for him to have it in such a place, but I could not move enough to dislodge it. I screamed, tried to flail my arms that were held down by harsh fingers whose nails bit into my wrists with mirth, and oh most definitely wanted to move that hand._

_ "Ah, Sweet, you're so soft..." The bastard commented, the fingertips of one hand brushing the back of my neck while the other greasy palm pulled my jeans down, the zipper grinding against my groin painfully. The denim was shoved down to my ankles and my heart stopped._

_ "So soft."_

_ His shudder of pleasure was enough to make bile rise up in my throat, threatening to show itself at any time, yet not wanting to show its face because even it feared him so._

_ Lucifer Hitch._

_ I cried out again. His flimsy fingers were prodding, trying to open me up. "Please, stop! Stop!" I was caught in a shiver, my whole body feeling like it was stalled in a shut down, that pins and needles place where your body was trying to wake from sleep when you lay on your arm for too long. _

_ "Raph, I think Cassy Boy likes it." Lucifer laughed. The sound grated my ears._

_ Raphael Hardy gritted his teeth as his grip on my wrists tightened. "Luc, he's a strong one."_

_ Lucifer grunted. Taking his fingers out, he gripped himself and placed the tip against me. Slamming in with one fluid movement, he bent over my arching back and touched his lips to my ear. "You'll love this, trust me." A smile was against my skin as he pulled out and shoved back in. _

_ I screamed again and all I could feel was hands and pain._

Falling from the bed woke Castiel. He sat up against the mattress, heart beating like hummingbird wings. One hand grabbed the bedsheets with white knuckles, his arms trying to pull him up but thinking better of it and dropping him on the floor again. The way he landed made him cry out again. He had just lifted one lower body cheek off the floor before the door was thrown open and Dean was standing in front of him, a blade in one hand and with a frightened face. He seemed to have assessed that there was no threat in the room because he tucked the knife away. Dean fell to his knees and pulled Cas to his chest.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"No." Was all Cas could get out before his arms curled around Dean and begged for comfort. Dean shuddered a breath before he wrapped Castiel in his arms and lifted him up. Castiel didn't remove his arms as Dean pulled them up onto the bed and had the covers situated around them. Breathing became difficult as his mind kept showing him Lucifer's face. Burying his eyes into Dean's chest, Cas let his shoulders shudder and his throat go hoarse from his cries.

"I'm right here. I won't leave you."

By unspoken word they all met in the kitchen around the table in the morning, cereal the meal of choice to start off the day.

"Do you want to stay?" Dean found himself asking and stilled. Where had that come from? He wanted him to stay, but why had he asked? Nervously sending a sideways glance at him, he waited.

Castiel almost looked visibly shaken by the prospect. His eyes became round again. "No. No, I believe I will go home today, if that's alright with you."

"Why would you want to go home?" Sammy asked around a mouthful of cocoa flavored crispies.

"My father would be upset with me. He already is since I didn't call last night." The words sounded like he was scolding himself.

Dean sighed. "You did call, right? Your dad will understand why you didn't go right home after..."

"He will not know." Castiel's fists clutched in a painful display of anger, the spoon in his hand shaking.

"You're not going to tell him?" Dean asked.

"No one needs to know."

"Cas, the police can help..."

"No." The finality shut Dean up. It was the harshest thing Castiel had ever said to him. The strongest passion in that one word. "It's to be forgotten."

Dean slammed his shaking fist into the tabletop, the force of it rattling the bowls and spilling some of Sammy's milk. Frustrated, he walked away from the table to take a shower.

Sammy looked across the table at Castiel. The scrutiny was almost upsetting, those brown eyes piercing beyond their years.

"Yes, Sam?" Castiel asked, setting his spoon down to rest in the bowl, meal half finished and forgotten. Why had Dean been so furious at him for not wanting to pursue the justice for the crime? It's not like anything would have happened. Castiel was the son of a preacher, a preacher who would be shamed by his son. A son who never would have chosen to be violated. Hell, he wouldn't wish that on anyone. Ever. Father would blame it on him, no matter if he spoke of his sisters involvement or not.

He'll never know Castiel was raped.

Ever.

"Cas, you okay?" Sam asked in a way that said he was there to listen. Actually listen; not judge, not scrutinize, not nit-pic every little detail and wonder if he was telling the truth. To be an ally.

"As good as I can be, I think." Trying for a soft smile as he thought of how Dean had held him last night in comfort and actually kissing Cas's tears away when he had thought Cas was asleep. The smile turned into a slight grimace when Dean's face morphed into Lucifer. He finished his drink and dumped his now soggy mush into the trash.

"Father, this is Dean. We have been working on a project at his house for school." Castiel said as he introduced Dean to his father.

Father Novak scoffed lightly without much thought on the boy as he extended his hand for a shake. "I appreciate you having my boy at your home, but I would have rather you asked to take him before just doing so."

"My fault." Dean assured when Castiel began to say he was sorry. They shared a glare before Dean continued. "I kinda told Castiel I would do some of the work before this weekend but got caught up with my brother, so I had him over for a while. Our parents are gone and I have to look after Sam. He had some things that needed to come first. Family comes first, am I right?" He chuckled once to show that even to him it was obvious.

"Hmm."

Father Novak scrutinized his son's friend up and down, his eyes landing on the ratty leather jacket, the worn denim jeans, and boots. They took in his openly friendly stance, the tilt of his head slightly to the side, the sense of obviousness in his green eyes. "Hmm." He mumbled again before lowering the arms he hadn't known he'd crossed.

"Castiel, help your brother with dinner."

"Yes, Father." He left with a slight nod and a downward stare.

"So," Father Novak began after Castiel had slid closed the living room door that blocked them from the kitchen. "What is it you are really doing with my son?"

Gabriel stalled in his stirring to see his brother come in. "Look who finally decided to come back." He chastised as he turned back to his task. "You really started something."

Castiel didn't reply.

"Figures he'd send you in here. Your food doesn't kill people." Gabriel tried with a smile.

Chuckling once, Cas went up to his brother and stole the spoon. He looked pointedly at the soup that was congealing slowly when not stirred before sending his eyes to Gabriel with lifted brows as if to ask 'Really? The best you can do?'

Gabriels lips spread into a shit eating grin. "That, brother, is the reason I love you."

Cas gave his brother a dead pan stare. 'I could do better than this.'

"Try me."

Dean choked on his breath and tried to cover the noise with a cough. He kept his eyes around the mans face as if he's not trying to lie. "Nothing. We were working on a project. Actually, Cas did most of the work because I don't really..."

"Obviously."

"Right."

Father Novak sliced his eyes and shot the younger man daggers. "Are you and my son friends?"

Dean nodded.

"Where are your parents?"

Trying not to cringe, he replied, "They're gone." The tone was one that was spoken softly but screamed volumes. One that said that conversation was over.

"Protective. That's good." He paused for a moment, thinking. "This brother of yours. How old is he?"

"Why?"

"Curiosity." The man shrugged.

Dean didn't have any idea where this was going, but he hoped it was a place that took a stick out of a particular orifice of the man. "Fourteen."

"And you?"

"Eighteen. Why are you asking me these questions? Seriously."

Father Novak had been turning away from Dean, but now snapped his attention back to him. His eyes narrowed, a paler version of Cas's oceans. The fingers, those dry, cracked fingers curled in upon themselves, their strain made apparent from the whites of his knuckles. "You steal my son, you give him a new name, you don't have the decency to have him call home, and you expect me to let you off without questioning? You are a sinner, Dean. It's written all over you."

The incredulous look on the younger mans face must have triggered another round of anger from the Father, but just then Gabriel slid the adjoining door open and proclaimed dinner was served.

"Not now, Gabriel. I'm not finished yet." Father Novak growled.

"Father." Castiel said softly, a small plea mixed with frustration.

The older man heaved a sigh. "You are not to stay for dinner."

"Father." Castiel said the name with more conviction. He even made to step into the room and side with Dean when his father held his hand up to still him. The fingers sprawled across his chest. A small shove made the small frame move backward slightly.

A dark, warning growl escaped from his throat. "Do not _question _me, Castiel."

Dean made to move toward Cas to protect him when Castiel lowered his head. Submission rang through him as his shoulders sagged and his eyes glazed over. Dean raised his hand to rest it on Cas's shoulder to comfort him, but the touch was shoved away with malice by the old man.

"You are not allowed here. Leave." Father Novak's voice rung Dean's neck of a response. Castiel wouldn't look at him. With a nod, Dean left the house, the screen door shutting loudly behind him.

Without a word, all the Novak's entered the dining room for their meal.

"You are not to speak to that boy again. He is a sinner." Father had said that about Dean four other times since they'd sat down to dinner. Spoons slid softly against the sides of the bowls as if even they didn't want to anger the man further. They all acted like they hadn't seen him dump half a flask of whiskey into his orange juice when they were all settling down.

Finally Castiel responded. "He is not a sinner."

"He is." Father took a spoonful of meat from the soup out of his bowl and let his hand still over the surface. "That boy is not clean."

They all ate in silence.

As the Novak kids were going to their rooms for instructed bed time, Castiel tapped Anna's door, waited for permission, then entered. Closing the door softly behind himself, he leaned against it.

"What's up?" She asked, half annoyed.

"Why were you so upset with me on the phone the other day?"

She was most definitely annoyed. She huffed a showing sigh and shrugged. "You weren't coming home, Castiel. Dad was pissed."

He nodded once, accepting that. "I understand his anger, but not yours."

"You... You would have gotten me into so much trouble. So much. I already am. Those guys..." She stopped, afraid she'd said too much.

"They what?" He questioned.

"You wouldn't understand." Her voice was a low whisper making Castiel have to strain to hear her. Her eyes kept flashing to a drawer in her dresser and away. She was hiding something.

"I would like to."

"You are the good child, Castiel. Stay that way." Anna's brow knitted together and her lips puckered out slightly in a show of angry frustration.

"I'm not letting this go that easily. Tell me, please. Trust me." Castiel was almost pleading with her. He had to understand.

Her anger won. "You ruined everything. You drove those men away, taking with them the things I wanted. I needed. I had everything lined up so it would be as smooth as possible. Raphael had said they had what I needed." Her eyes were frantic now, flashing ceaselessly to the drawer.

"I do not understand."

"Of course not!" Anna was yelling, she knew, and lowered her voice. "You have never needed something so much that you thought you would die. Never wanted something that would take all the pain and problems away that living in this shithole of a house gives you. I am drowning in the crap Father shovels above my head. I need what they had and you stole that from me. I couldn't call the cops because the deal was done and they would have sold me out. Father would've had a heart attack knowing what his baby girl was into. I'm so frustrated and it's the only thing that gives me a break from the shit, Castiel. You upset me when you took it away from me."

"What's that?" His head was tilted in question, eyebrows knitted.

"You are so stupid." She laughed. She laughed until her stomach ached and her body shivered from the tremors running through it. Without a thought, she opened the drawer and pulled out a prescription bottle filled with little pills. She took one in between her pointer and thumb and held it up to examine it. Finding it to her liking, she plopped it into her mouth.

"A good high, and all it costs is a kiss."


	4. Chapter 4

_Authors Note: Sorry guys! I know this one's really late... but I've had lots and lots of homework. School has less than two months left and this procrastinator right here has to catch up. Again, thank you all for your comments, they are cookies for my soul! Tell me what you think, I appreciate it!_

_Title: Out Of The Ashes (4/?)_

_Disclaimer: I do not own these wonderful men or anything that had to do with Supernatural. _

_Rating: PG-13 This part._

_Warnings: AU, so no spoilers that I can think of._

It took Castiel a moment to think of something to say, his mind was reeling, careening through a world of misunderstanding. Drugs? Anna? _His_ sister?

"What are you saying?" He asked, trying his damnedest to not believe her. "You can't be serious."

Anna sighed. "I. Am. Doing. Drugs. I. Am. An. Addict." She said the sentences as slowly as she could, making Castiel feel like a scolded child. He opened his mouth to say something and then changed his mind, unsure of what he _could _say. "Do you understand now?" She asked sarcastically.

"Anna... All Michael and Gabriel did to raise you when Father began to drink... What I did the other night..."

"Hmph. _You _stuck your little nose where it didn't belong."

Ungrateful. How could she be so ungrateful? She didn't know what happened, but still. She didn't care about what had happened to him to get her to safety.

Not that he would ever tell her either.

His heart hardened as he asked a question that was already forming bile in his stomach. "What were you doing with them before I arrived? You were screaming."

She chuckled and played modest by putting an unsteady hand up to her lips. "A real lady doesn't kiss and tell..."

"A real lady kisses on the lips."

She laughed again, her head lulling to the side.

Castiel growled; a low, venomous grating of his voice in his tight throat. His patience had limits.

"Anna Mary Novak!"

"Shut up, Castiel. What do you care?" Her body shook from anger and euphoria, the pills effects beginning to show. She stood, her face slacking slacking slightly.

"You are my sister! My blood! I'm supposed to protect you from this!" Castiel could feel his guilt trying to overcome his outburst, but he wasn't done yet. He could berate himself for it after. "You're running around like a common tramp."

Anna sucked in a breath through her teeth. "What did you call me?"

"A tramp. A whore. Someone who sells herself for something." Each sentence had her body tense further, her body slowly pulling itself away from him while at the same time making her push out of the chair and stand tall.

"How can you say that to me?"

"Because you are!" Castiel practically screamed.

"Why you bast..."

Father burst into the room, his face ablaze with annoyance. "When I say get to bed, what the hell does it sound like I mean, huh?" He sneered at his children. "Get to bed. Now." Moving so his back was flush with the door, he made room for Castiel to move by and leave the room.

Castiel had had enough time to compose himself again and was now his usual self. He left the room without a word, hearing Father's voice soften as he told Anna goodnight and her soft reply back.

Castiel hated mornings. He hated the heavy hum of the alarm stirring him from dreams that challenged reality. He hated the chill of the morning air compared to the burning heat of the sheets against his skin making him want to curl up further into the covers and disappear. He couldn't though. Father wouldn't allow it.

"Castiel, wake up. You can't stay there all day!" Gabriel bellowed gleefully from the other side of the sheets.

"Wanna bet?" Castiel murmured into the pillow before tossing the warmth away and crawling to the edge of the mattress and testing his feet against the chilly floor.

Father would be upset if he stayed home.

"Father left early this morning, something about the new priest being here early." Gabriel told him around a twizzler.

Grunting, Castiel stood. He quickly showered and dressed in the plain shirt Dean let him wear home with a plaid over shirt and the cleanest jeans he could find.

As he made his way to the kitchen, Anna came out of her room. She looked terrible. Her usually tamed hair was a mass upon her head while the last days makeup was caked around her eyes. She snarled at him. "What?"

He just walked past her.

"Want one?" Gabriel offered Castiel a lollypop.

Castiel just looked at his brother with one side of his mouth pulled back and his lips pursed as if to say 'Really? That's your breakfast?'.

"Hey, now. Don't knock it before you try it." His face screwed up into a distasteful sneer, but only lasted a moment before he smiled again. "Get full, we're leaving for school in ten minutes."

"Sammy! Come on, man. I gotta get you to school!" Dean shouted down the hallway to his brother as he spooned out the oatmeal he knew Sammy loved that they had every so often. The younger Winchester, for some reason unfathomable to Dean, actually cared about his health. He even tried to get Dean to eat a salad once. That hadn't gone over well.

"You know, if you had some of this your blood pressure might go down and you might not be so tired all the time." Sammy replied as he dragged his bag into the kitchen and set it in the chair next to him.

Dean shook his head. "If I ate this, I would die. So gross." He took a heaping spoonful and tipped it over, the beige glob stretching out slowly before plopping into the plate. He made a big show of shivering in disgust.

Sammy just laughed and accepted the food.

"Is Cas coming back over tonight?" Sammy asked around a glob.

"I don't think so, Sammy. It's a school night." Dean didn't want to think about it, but damn the kid sounded almost hopeful. He had even looked it before his brother made his face fall as if he had crushed all his hopes and dreams.

Sammy harrumphed and sat back crossing his arms. "You're different with him."

"What?" Dean was totally confused by his brother.

"You're different with him. You treat him like he's a wounded animal. Like if you say the wrong thing you'll hurt his feelings. Even when I walked in on you two in bed..."

"We weren't sleeping together, sleeping together. I had forgotten he was even here when I woke up." Dean explained.

Sam just rolled his eyes. "Whatever. You seem to care about him, and caring for him makes you happy. Even when I just say his name now, you smirk."

Dean just scowled.

"Cas."

A tug on his mouth to actually freaking smirk. He covered it quickly.

"See! See! I am so right." Sammy smiled a genuine smile.

"Shut up and eat or you're walkin'."

Dean had wanted to see him all day, but knew Castiel probably wouldn't feel the same. The guy hadn't even said goodbye when Dean had left his house. The conversation with Father Novak hadn't helped at all either. The man had weighed and measured Dean in the span of a millisecond and knew something without a doubt. What that something was, Dean wasn't prithee to, but knew the way the man had bristled and held his body when he spoke to Dean that it was almost concerning.

Almost.

The ringing of the lunch bell startled him so much he had to catch himself before he fell out of his seat.

"Wow, Winchester. Lost much?" Chuck Harville asked as he picked up a notebook Dean had accidentally shoved off his horrible excuse of a desk.

"Yeah, Chuck, but not as bad as your daydreams with Becky."

Chuck gasped then glowered and pointed an accusing finger in Dean's direction. "You shut your filthy whore mouth. Your brain is too nasty for your own good."

Dean scowled.

"Oh, I get it. You had a dream of me?" his eyes got round as marbles and put his hands up palms out. "Aww, Deany! I love you too, man, but not that way. You're a good guy and all, but... No."

The older Winchester shook his head and smirked.

"Seriously, dude. I like chicks."

It couldn't be helped; Dean almost tripped over his own feet as they walked down the aisle between two rows of desks to the hallway.

Chuck punched him hard in the arm.

"Dude, what about Becky? She's had her eyes set on you for a while."

"Actually, we went out on Saturday. Well, not really went out as much as I went out to the movies, alone, and caught her stalking me from a few rows back. She saw me look at her and took that as an invitation to sit next to me. She has this smile when you get close to her, man, and I don't know. She grew on me." Chuck smiled.

"Ah, but the question is did you grow on her?" Dean asked huskily, his pink tongue slicking his lips as he pursed them.

"Dude... No."

Dean fell on the man playfully, his hands grasping at the front of his shirt wrinkling it. ""Naw, you can't love her. Not her! You love me more, right? Please, Chuckie!"

Chuck bellowed a laugh that scared a few girls that were walking past them.

"Alright, alright. You're the love of my life. Happy?"

"Extremely." Dean smiled a shit eating grin. They were so engrossed in their conversation they hadn't noticed the two jocks as they came down the other side of the hall.

"Faggots." The leader muttered as they walked past.

Dean dropped his hands immediately, the clothing remaining crumpled from the mistreatment. Gulping around the thickness in his throat, he whispered, "Sorry, man." as he walked away, Chuck calling after him.

Castiel had wanted to see him all day, but knew Dean probably wouldn't feel the same. He hadn't even said goodbye when Dean had left his house. Father Novak wasn't exactly taken with Dean, but what else was to be expected?

He didn't even know what he would say if he saw the man who had saved him. Castiel wasn't one for hero worship, but there was an awe Cas had for the eldest Winchester. The man, not really a teen, had grown up fast so he wouldn't lose his brother. An admirable move for a child to give up his innocence so another may have theirs.

Shaking his head, he shoved his fingers in a back pocket and retrieved a twenty. Zolov would eat well today he thought as he left school grounds toward the little shop a few blocks away.

As he drove, Dean couldn't help but stare at the passenger seat every few seconds and practically will Cas to be there by the next blink. He knew it must seem weird. It was just that he missed the only person he felt anything besides blankness for since his father left him and Sammy.

No big deal.

With another glance at the time on his phone he grimaced. Ten minutes left and his mind still couldn't focus. Coaxing the Impala on the right roads back toward the school, he hit a stop light.

Again, no big deal.

After ten seconds and no other traffic, Dean became twitchy. He turned his head again to look at the passenger seat and there Cas was. Not in the actual seat, but exiting the little organic shop to the right of the black beauty.

He looked just the same as ever; clothes not quite fitting to his frame and hanging off his slight frame like a Roman robe. His eyes were narrowed in concentration down the sidewalk, shoulders lax in comparison to the commanding stare. As Dean scrutinized, he saw a bag dangling from one elegant fingertip. Dean gave him a good once over too, just to make sure he's fine, and saw his shirt as it wiped around Cas' body. _Dean's _shirt.

Just as he was contemplating calling his name, Dean saw a rattily dressed man step up to Castiel from behind him. The man's lips moved slightly and Cas whirled around on one heel and came face to face with the man. Then he recognized the man, he smiled a small, genuine smile and by unspoken agreement both sat against the side of the building and drew their knees up so others couldn't trip over them.

Another twenty seconds had gone by and the light still hadn't changed.

Glancing back, he saw that while he had looked away a sandwich had been pulled out of the bag and the two were slowly munching in comfortable silence.

Dean swore under his breath as the sun deemed that moment precious enough to smother Cas in brilliant slight and create a slight halo effect above his black locks.

Dean sighed wistfully, wanting to go to him.

The light turned green.

"Sammy!"

Dean watched as his little brother muttered something to his friends and came over to the Impala. He was walking with a happy step, his eyes practically glowing with excitement, and for that Dean was glad. It's been way too long since such a smile was on his little brothers face. Besides with Dean, of course.

"Dean! Dean. Pamala and Jesse asked me over to Jim's for a while. Can I go?" The request was almost breathless with expectation.

Once again, Dean took in the younger Winchester's merriment and decided to let him go. How could he not?

"Yeah, Sammy, you can go. Call my cell if anything goes wrong or when you need a ride home, got it?"

"Thanks, Dean!" Sammy turned to head back the way he came but when Dean said 'hold on' and climbed out, he waited, his impatience clear as he shifted from foot to foot.

Dean smiled. "How you gunna call me?" He asked even though he knew the answer.

"From Jimmy's?" Sammy said as if it was the most obvious thing in the entire world and couldn't believe Dean had missed it.

With 'smartass' just barely stopped from exiting his mouth Dean replied. "Ah, well. That's one way, I suppose." He leaned his hip against the Impala, settling in.

"How else am I supposed to... Holy sh-"

"Language, Sammy!" Dean chastised lightly as he pulled the prepaid phone from behind his back. This was as good a time as any to give it to him. Sammy was always needing to bum a phone from others that he was pretty glum about going places. Even the library.

Sam's eyes grew as he reached out for the plastic. "Oh my God. Thank you! Thank you!" Sammy threw his arms around the older brother, his face buried within the folds of Dean's shirt. For a moment, Dean was happy. The happiest he's ever been.

Castiel knew Anna would want to resume their argument, he just didn't think that she would be stupid enough to have the venue be the hallway surrounded by half the student body. He had planned on slipping by her before she could say anything or do the most ridiculous act. Anna was always one to do things without thought.

As he tried to stuff his face in a book and tread lightly behind a tall freshmen, she spotted him, eagle eyes piercing as they demanded him to see her. Those orbs narrowed in fierce anger as he saw their bickering come back and play in his mind. She stalked toward him without care for the line of people she shoved out of the way.

"You have no idea what the fuck you messed up for me, do you?" The hiss was loud enough to catch the attention of some of those around him. They stalled, the chant of 'fightfightfightfight' not too far away of Castiel didn't calm her down from the boil to at least a simmer.

"Must we do this here?" He asked as soothingly as he could, sounding like he wasn't talking to his sister, but a small child.

Anna huffed and tucked a chunk of frustrating read hair behind her ear. "Yes, we must." She threw his downward tone right back at him. "Lucifer is angry with me! You practically ruined everything. What little there was to salvage I had to handle."

"Handle how?" His tone cautious. Curious.

"Wouldn't want to hurt little Cassy's ears with that story, now would I?"

The color of Castiel's ears would put a Santa suit to shame, but he didn't let that deter him. "And what the hell does that mean?" Breathing became a hardship. "Did you fuck him? Say you were sorry your little brother came along while you were down on your scrawny knees _begging_ him for another dime or bottle?" He hated himself.

Eyes narrowed, she leaned in further so the bystanders they had collected wouldn't hear her. "Lucy told me what he did. Right after I got off of my scrawny knees." The whisper may as well have been a dagger, and his ears his stomach. Bile that he had held back before came back in full force. He swallowed hard to keep from ruining her shirt.

"You know and yet you don't stop? You know what he did and you _don't stop_?" His fingers itched to smash her head against the lockers.

She smile sweetly and placed a hand on his cheek. "No, 'cause now I have leverage. You tell Daddy, so do I."

"I... I never consented." This gulp was one of fear.

"Father won't care. You know it, I know it. Let's not play stupid." Her smile grew.

Castiel could see Father seeing this the same way Anna did; Castiel being with guy. Being gay. Being a sinner. Father would disown him for sure. This wasn't something he had thought about because he hadn't planned on telling anyone, but apparently Lucifer hadn't gotten this weeks newsletter.

"So, you're okay with what he did to me?" His voice harsh, hard. An unmovable stone.

She let her smile fall at least. "No, but like I said, you stuck your little nose where it didn't belong."

As she stalked away into the thinning crowd, Castiel thought bitterly that she was wrong. Her safety was something he was to always protect, even when it hurt him. Thoughts turning to last night fight, he was reminded of what she said about the drugs. They were something she felt she would die without. There was something he wanted he wanted so badly that he would think he would die without as well. Love.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Out Of The Ashes (5/?)

Disclaimer: I do not own these wonderful men or anything that had to do with Supernatural.

Rating: PG-13, this part. (man crying, swearing, minor off-screen character death)

Warnings: None. Completely AU.

Summary: Castiel ignores Dean's phone calls and Dean gets harassed by Alistair at work. Sam does his best to bring Castiel and Dean together again, but will it work?

Dean had called. Three times. Cas hadn't answered once. He had been hesitant the first time he tried; his fingers had shaken, the press of the buttons almost too difficult to handle. To be fair, he had hung up after the third ring like a coward. Dean was no coward, so he tried again after he had told his nerves to calm the hell down and his heart to stop being a little bitch. That time he had made it all the way to voicemail before he'd hung up. The third time the same.

All he wanted to know was if Cas was okay, but it seemed his concerned wasn't wanted. Somehow the intelligent blue eyes and feather-soft black hair tore through Dean's defenses that he's painstakingly set up; each wall strategically placed to ensure maximum damage control. Castiel had _melted_ them all. Nothing was supposed to matter more than Sammy, nothing, but when he had woken to a mouthful of that hair, touched his lips to the younger man's forehead, and those misleadingly small arms held him in a vise-like grip, begging for comfort, Dean hadn't had a chance. The fear in Cas's eyes reminded him of the same fear he had seen in Sam the one and only time their father had lain a hand on him.

John Winchester had not been an inherently bad man or father. When the love of his life had died suddenly, it was as if his soul had died with her. His heart had hardened considerably and Dean and Sam had been forced to take on their broken father's anger. The shriveled excuse of a man couldn't take care of the boys even when he wasn't drowning in Jack's finest and most expensive.

One night, when the young Winchesters were watching television, John took in a few too many amber installments for his own good. Memories of his Mary's smile had plagued him and his thoughts turned sour. How could she have gone _that_ way? Her soul was a vivacious, bright, tangible source if his life and it was stamped out because some kid bad been getting frisky behind the wheel with his girlfriend and taken his eyes off the road for a moment too long. Someone elses mistake had cost Mary her life, and in turn, John's.

God knew John hated him. He had to; his name had been cursed until John was on his knees, face smashed into his hands, tears running through his fingertips. A few more times from the fettle position as well for good measure.

That night, John thought about Mary. That night, John thought he would've rather had the kids go instead of her. He downed another gulp-full from the bottle, backwash of spit and dinner floating around the mouth of the glass, and approached the children from the side. He just stared at them.

"Daddy?" Sammy asked, looking over his brothers shoulder at the man hovering with concern. 'He was too damn perceptive for his own good.' John decided.

Dean glanced in his direction and his upper lip lifted slightly. Rubbing his hand against the small of Sammy's back, practically covering it as he did, he got his brothers attention.

"Hey, Buddy, why not go up to your room, huh? That new book from the library isn't going to read itself."

"But Dean..."

"No, Sam, stay." The voice he spoke with was rough from the sandpaper liquor that left the words to come out dangerously close to a growl. Dean rose from his cushion, nowhere near the height of the older Winchester, but the resolve that his body echoed with added to his stature. The tight line of his lips showed his unwillingness to back down.

The old man crossed his stubborn arms. Contempt narrowed his eyes. "Sammy, come here."

Sammy eyed his father. Never once had he called him Sammy. That was Dean's nickname and hearing it from anyone else bothered him. His wince was inward, one that was hidden from the man that was glaring at him. Eyes that used to glow with love were now dulled with pain and memories best left forgotten and not wallowed in.

"I think I'm gunna go read." He stood on naked feet and went around the backside of the couch to bypass the drunk.

Shooting out a hand, John's calloused palm crashed into the soft, pliant flesh of the young Winchesters cheek, instantly creating a red hand-print of raised blood. Sammy's head, not expecting the assault, twisted cruelly. The poor boy's body went limp and fell to the floor, but not before it bounced against the coffee table with a thwack, his arms not even bothering to lift and stop the fall. The sound of his small body hitting the ground was soft, almost like he was too small for such a thing to happen to him.

The next moment Dean had his fathers' hair grasped in one hand while the other drew back repeatedly to assail his nose enough times to break it. John's knees didn't have the will to stay upright at the anger of his son; neither did his spirit. Curling at the knees, he stopped halfway to the floor. Dean switching from the his face to his ribs when the angle he was throwing his hand became too difficult.

The old man allowed this. The pain, the hatred for himself for harming his smallest, and the fear of permanent damage to himself left him drained to the point of closing his eyes and smirking at the point that he had come to. No man blames their children for something the couldn't control. He was too broken to think clearly and as such deserved what Dean did.

Thankfully his body agreed, but as tired as it was from fighting himself, he passed out, a puff of sorrow escaping his chapped lips as he fell to the floor much less gracefully than his son had.

Dean shook his head to release the grip the memory had on him as he turned up the still gravel drive to the Singer Auto Shop. Bobby Singer had taken them in after Dean had called him and explained what had happened. Dean and Sammy's apartment was near the junk yard and Dean worked on the cars as payment for the place to live. Bobby knew Dean loved the mental strain and sweat the job mandated. 'Mechanic in the making' he always called the eldest Winchester.

Alistair on the other hand seemed to have a different opinion. The old man had been on Dean's case since the day Dean had started working for Bobby, criticizing his every decision and making sure to remind Dean about every mistake he ever made.

Dean groaned inwardly as the door opened and the old man stepped into the shop. His withered face wore its usual cynical smile.

"Dean-o, nice to see you here early for once." His nasally voice annoyed Dean to no end and his face made Dean want to tear his eyes out with needle-nose pliers.

"Alistair, nice to see you're not dead yet." Dean countered grumpily. Alistair raised an eyebrow at him.

"You wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, Winchester?" He asked. Dean rolled his eyes. "I don't like your attitude, boy." Alistair warned.

"I don't like yours either, old man." Dean said, not in the mood to be harassed by a grumpy old geezer. Alistair laughed loudly, a dry, cracked, cough-like sound that set Dean's teeth on edge. "Is that funny?" He asked, his voice tense. Alistair laughed again.

"You have no idea, kid. You have no idea." Dean felt his teeth clench. He was far from a kid. He ignored the comment and went back to what he was supposed to be doing.

The purple 1960 Mustang was Dean's pride and joy. He had completely rebuilt the car for one of the shop's most important customers. Mrs. Keans had brought the car in for an oil change and ended up needing one thing after the other, from a whole new set of spark plugs to needing a whole new engine. The Barney imposter had been there a month but Mrs. Keans was willing to pay for it. As he finished tightening the last bolt on the wheel, he sat up and wiped his hands against his thighs, trying to dislodge the grease to no avail. The vehicle was cherry and Dean was filled with pride. Bobby even grunted at the work; his highest honor.

Dean sorted through the throng of unorganized clientele folders until he found the correct one. He marked down, in detail, what he'd done to the beauty and signed off on it's clean bill of health. Checking the time and finding it too late to call, he jotted down a note on the calendar for someone to call her and set a pick up time. He put the file in the J through M drawer.

"Not leaving us early, are you Winchester?" Alistair called out from under the hood of a Ford Explorer.

A satisfactory bird was thrown over Dean's shoulder as he rounded the lift and headed to Bobby's station.

The older man was in his chair, straddling it, facing a hulking bunch of metal that could have, at it's best, resembled a vehicle if you squinted your eyes really small and tilted your head just right. Without knowing that this scraggly hunk of chewed up sliver had saved Bobby's wife, Ellen, and son, Chuck, anyone would have salvaged the scrap metal and thrown the rest into the junk yard. Bobby kept it in a small corner of the garage to remind himself of what could have happened had this specific crap heap not been the vehicle Ellen had been driving when the drunk driver had sped around a corner two blocks from their house on a sunny afternoon.

Dean shuffled his feet, feeling like an intruder, and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Anything you need me to do before I head out?"

"Naw, boy." After running a calloused palm over his face, Bobby stood and moved the chair back to his desk. "You head on home to Sam. Didn't he have that test today? The calculus?"

"Yeah. The walking brain is taking advanced high school classes in eighth grade. Freakin' genius." Dean couldn't stop a fond smile.

The old man harrumphed. "Serves you right to have Einstein as your brother. Now get before Ellen figures out your still here and invites you over for dinner."

Saluting, Dean barked a laugh as he left.

As Castiel stood outside his house with the key clenched in his fingers. He knew something was wrong. The tingle in the air was that of an upcoming storm; sharp, crisp, and clear. A foreboding that didn't settle well in his stomached thrashed and twisted guiltily in the pit of his stomach, making him push away the wood with tentative fingers and enter the house.

Stepping into the atrium he could hear the chafing drone of Father's whiskey soured voice filtering from somewhere he desperately wanted to steer clear of. He shuffled forward slowly and searched the living room finding it empty. A harsh crash and the sound of wet glass sounded. Frowning, Castiel slithered up to the wall and moved down the short expanse to the kitchen where he found Father with a new small tumbler of alcohol cradled against his chest protectively. His brother, Gabriel, was on the floor with a dish towel and scowl trying to quickly gather all the tiny shards of glass and throw them away before Father started pacing and hurt himself. Choosing that moment to look up, Gabriel and saw Castiel hovering in the doorway. Smiling sadly and tilting his chin out toward the hallway, Gabriel was telling Castiel it was alright to leave; that Gabriel would take care of this.

After catching little of what Father was saying besides his name, "your mother", "all that stupid child's fault", and "evil", he was really grateful to leave.

Ducking into the bathroom on the way to his room Castiel could still hear Father's strong and loud gravel through the wood as though he wasn't between them. The accusations were always the same when he got this drunk, but they hurt all the same. Father would say it was all Castiel's fault that their mother died even though he couldn't have predicted her complications, that he was a devil spawn, and even that he was a mistake. Gabriel always tried to reason with him but they all knew it was useless. Castiel figured it helped Gabriel's conscious to defend his family even if it was against another member.

The stench of alcohol and bad breath wafted under the door throguh the crack and stung Castiel's nose. Turning the faucet on and getting the water to reach freezing, he stared at his reflection, gauging his blue eyes, full lips, nose, and pale complexion for any signs of evil or villainy as though the tilt fo his eyelashes would scream killer if he just looked hard and waited patiently enough.

The chill of the stream was eating the nerve endings in his hands where they rested on the counter on either side of the sink. He shoved his cupped hands under the fall and drenched his face in the cold. Content with the bite, he did it again. Once more because the blissful numb would fade of he didn't.

Looking again at his reflection, panting a little as he watched his cheeks turn a blushing pink, he wondered if this was really a face of evil.

"Cas, are you intentionally being mean to Dean or are you just that cruel?"

Castiels' eyebrows flew away from the tone of the younger Winchester brother. He had been studying studiously in the afternoon sun on his favorite park bench, it just happened to be the furthest bench from the woods where the decidedly non-event happened, and hadn't heard Sam's footfalls on the path. Sam's shadow folded over Castiel, arms crossed and eyes slightly narrowed in suspicion. Sam had never spoken to him, or anyone from what he can recall, with such forcefulness. With him being so carefree and young it was mind boggling to remember that he was more intelligent than he seemed. "Sam, I have no idea what you're talking about. I haven't said anything mean to your brother. How could you accuse me of such a thing?"

Sam rolled his eyes heavenward with such exaggeration it was surprising his head didn't fall off. "It's not what you say. You don't even know what you do to him. I don't know what happened between you two, but Dean has been happier with you in his life than before. Cas, Dean likes you. Like, really likes you. Almost as much as the Impala. All you do is avoid him now and that makes him mopy and sad. My brother can't be like that, do you understand?" The severeness of his gaze rooted Castiel to his seat, forcing him to think hard on what Sam was saying.

Dean liked him?

"How is that possible?" Castiel murmured mostly to himself, eyes cast downward so Sam couldn't see the almost nonexistent flash of hope that sparked there. He was sullied, used. Broken.

The young Winchester knelt down in front of him. Placing his fidgeting hands on his thighs Castiel couldn't help but look at the hazel eyes that bore into his space. "Can't you see it when he looks at you?"

Castiel did see something, yeah, but more along the lines of pity and regret. Something that said Dean was sorry he couldn't have been there sooner, or even that he shouldn't have been there at all. Dean was a nice guy to help but he never wanted to fall this deep into charity that he couldn't see the door to leave, Castiel was sure of it. How could such a good person want someone like him? His frown darkened his face. "Sam, you must be wrong. You see the world as a happy place because you are still young, and that's a good thing, but not everything is that simple."

Blood, angry and red, pooled in the young man's cheeks. Anger laced with embarrassment spelled itself on the boys features and curled evilly in his stomach. "Maybe you need to simplify."

"Sammy..."

"How dare y... No. No, that's Dean's name for me. You haven't earned the right to use it."

The words seethed from Sam with such forcefulness Castiel's lips thinned. Unable to disagree he nodded once.

Vibration in Sam's pocket stopped him from saying something else. He scrambled to get the phone free so he could see who it was and smiled when he say Dean's name. "Hey, Dean. What's up?" He asked, voice free of the tension it had been flowing with moments ago.

Castiel could see the smile Sam had for his brother even though he couldn't see it. He coughed to clear his throat and shifted slightly, feeling like an intruder.

The young Winchesters brow wrinkled slightly. "Why meet there?" Dean was saying something else in a soft tone and Sam replied with, "Fuck. I totally forgot." Grief filled his face and tears sprung to his eyes so fast Castiel jumped up and wrapped him in a hug. Sam clung to him with a painful grip, nails digging through the layers of clothes. Gritting his teeth Castiel just hugged him closer.

"Dean, I'm on my way."

After closing the phone Sam wrapped his newly freed hand around Castiel's other side, shoving his face into Castiel's warm chest.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Castiel asked.

A sniffle echoed in his ears as Sam pulled away slightly to be heard. "Today's mom's birthday. I... I forgot." The utter heartache in his face made Castiel's heart clench tightly. His breath caught.

"So, where are we going?"

The pew was cold. Even after sitting there for what felt like hours, Dean was still cold. It seemed the wood was completely against accepting body heat, but that was alright with him. The warmth would come as a comfort when all he wanted was to wallow a few minutes more for his mother. Chuckling darkly, he thought to himself that perhaps he really was a glutton for punishment as his father had said.

He carded his fingers in his hair, rested his elbows on his knees and prayed. This wasn't an action he did often, mostly because he believed God to have forgotten him. Not Sammy though. Never Sammy. He was a beacon of light in Dean's world of bill infested lonely darkness Dean had put himself in.

It was safe, or so he kept thinking.

He had done this to his life because he was trying to make sure Sammy had anything and everything his huge heart wanted that Dean could actually pay for, excluding the Christmas he took liberty of a few five finger discounts he wasn't so proud of. None of it was a mistake. Never would be.

He only wished he had a sliver of himself left to offer Cas.

In the middle of an exhale a small, shy hand landed on his shoulder.

"Dean."

Just his name. Nothing more than four letters strung together to create one syllable that could be a grunt of anyone tried hard enough. It was the way Sammy said it; the hurt, the ache in his chest had weaseled its way into the boy's simple word, layering it in years of pain and misery.

A hand stretched out to Sammy who was still clutching to Cas. "Yeah, I know."

The young Winchester threw himself at his brother awkwardly, sobs wrecking his body, leaving a mass of flesh that repeated "I forgot, how could I forget?"

Dean could see Castiel fidget with his hands for a moment, not knowing what to do with himself now that he'd brought Sam. Their eyes locked over Sammy's still shivering shoulders. Overcome with feeling like an intruder, Castiel nodded once to Dean and walked toward the back of the church where disappeared into his father's office. For a few minutes Dean rubbed Sammy's back and murmured what he hoped were soothing words. When he again felt a hand on his shoulder, this time a grown man's, he stilled his cooing and turned just enough to see who it was.

"Jim?" Shock coursed through Dean as he stared at the man who could only be Jim Murphy. He and John had gone way back, high school buddies, but ever since Mary died John couldn't hold onto a single friend, deciding instead to suffocate on his sorrow. Age showed in his face even though it had only been a few years, mostly in the lines around his eyes. His hand tightened on Dean's shoulder then released.

"Hello, Dean. Sam." A sad smile graced him that never reached his eyes. "Been a while."

Gulping, Dean nodded. He shifted Sammy until his pliant little body was sitting on Dean's legs, facing Jim. Sammy gave a small wave and tried a smile. It came out more like a grimace.

"Mom's birthday." Sammy mumbled.

"Yeah, I remember. Great woman, your mother." This time, the smile reached every hidden corner of his face. "Mary loved you boy's. She always called you her angels."

Chuckling, Sammy raised the arm that wasn't pinned to Dean. Moving it up and down slowly he whispered, "Guess the wings never grew."

All three laughed, trying their damnedest not to let the dark overcome their memories.

Again, that feeling of dread and hopelessness engulfed Castiel as he entered Father's office. The old man was in his normal chair behind his normally cluttered desk wearing his normal passive face.

Only, his eyes were on fire.

"Father, has something happened?" Castiel asked softly.

Father's face snapped up as though he just realized Castiel was even there, eyes narrowing a moment to focus on his face. Then he did something he never did.

He swore.

"It's your fucking brother. Michael." The words were spat out like a bad taste.

Castiel frowned. "What about him?"

The old man scoffed. "He fucking died over there in that stupid uniform trying to save a little girl from a road side bomb." Breathing became difficult for him, that was the only explanation as to why Father was practically hyperventilating from the emotions tearing away the ice on his heart. "He brought this on himself."

Father stood up. His shoulders rose and fell with his lungs and his legs shook. Hos body almost vibrated from the feelings in him as they fought for dominance over his actions, his flesh not knowing which one to follow orders from. Anger seemed to win because he wretched the scream of a grieving father and tore his hands across his desk, sending all the organized files onto the floor making it rain paper. "He brought it on himself!"

All three stopped their quiet circle memories about Mary when they heard the scream from the office. Frowning, Jim went to investigate, the boys on his coattails.

As they entered the room Castiel shoved past them. Jim dismissed him completely and went over to the Father, trying to calm him down. Father was still screaming.

Coming to a decision, Dean knelt down in front of Sammy. "Promise me you'll stay with Jim? Promise?"

At Sammy's reluctant nod, Dean shot off after Cas.

He knew he had heard the big front door crash, so he headed that way first. As he rounded the corner of the church that lead to woods, he spotted Castiel's form practically running. Castiel was going through the small parking lot and was just next to the Impala when Dean caught up to him.

The first thing Dean felt was a fist landing a poorly practiced punch to his nose. The second thing was two arms circling his neck that drew him close to the warm body he longed for.

"What happened?" Dean asked softly.

Castiel sniffled near Dean's ear quietly. "My brother, Micheal. He's dead."

Hating the pain in Cas's voice, the older Winchester pulled him closer.

After a few minutes of crying and clutching, Cas sighed. "There is nothing left."

"Cas... Of course there is."

"No, Dean. I've lost a brother. I've been violated I have been used. I am ruined, Dean! Soiled!"

"Fuck that!" Dean took his hands from Cas's shoulders, gripped the smaller man by his waist, and shoved him into the car.

Cas shuttered a breath, his cheeks tinting pink. His lungs burned from the sudden expulsion and demanded oxygen while Dean just held him there.

"There is always something left to fight for. You just gotta have the balls to go out and fight _for_ it." He willed his voice to calm. His voice had risen in volume and Castiel was shrinking away slowly. "This is me, fighting for what I want. What I need. This is me calling you, Cas. Can you please answer?"

Dean couldn't look into those blue orbs and not know without a shadow of doubt that Cas didn't feel something, anything, for him. His shy fingers released their possessive hold and tangled themselves with black hair slowly, those eyes he adores pleading with him for release. Dean then did the only thing he could think of; he switched places. Gripping that trim body once more he swung their bodies around unto he found his back intimate with the chilly exterior of the Impala.

Cas didn't know what to do. He had felt trapped, caged with the instinct that he was prey again, and suddenly he is caging Dean, their bodies flush from knee to chest. Castiel's position was domineering. His legs were between Dean's, his hands, fingers splayed, on either side of the body beneath him. The blood in his body stilled, seemed to stop its flow to his heart. The organ didn't know to beat with joy of completely encasing Dean who submitted willingly or with fear or doing something wrong or treating his crush with the same harsh hands he had been.

"I... I don't know what to do." Cas whispered, afraid he'd break the sudden submissiveness in Dean.

A small smile graced the Winchester's face. "Kiss me."

Castiel inched forward. Did Dean really mean it? Sam swore up and down the answer was an obvious yes and he wanted so much to believe Sam.

Another small movement forward.

His lungs shut down. There was no oxygen making its way to Dean's brain but on his life he couldn't have cared less. Castiel's lips were so close, so close. Right there. Beautiful bitten lips within reach, if only he would lean in and take them. He wanted to, but Castiel needed to take, if only for the first time in his life. Dean would not take that from him.

A soft brush of silk upon his lips and Dean shivered, breath shuttering from his body and fanning Cas's cheeks. Castiel kept his eyes open. Dragging a hand from the shelter of the car, he slowly placed it, shakily, against Dean's pink cheek, fingertips gently touching skin. Dean arched his back suddenly, Castiel forming his body to the new position. Hard chest pressed to hard chest.

"I'm..." Casitel began, only to be interrupted by an irritated groan and a grasping hand in his unruffled hair. He was helpless but to allow his head to be brought down.

Dean did his best to take it slow, he really did, but the smell of Castiel this close was intoxicating and the temptation of those lips being so close... "Please."

Castiel rubbed his thumb across the full bottom lip underneath his innocent hand, breath sweet. Leaning in until his red skin rested against the lips of the man under him, he took a deep breath. He watched as Dean's eyelids fluttered down, casting secret shadows beneath. A small sound somewhere between a moan and a soft cry escaped the taller man's lips, leaving them slightly gaping. Castiel brushed his lips against the silken flesh once more before his daring tongue slid across the bottom of the mouth, slickening it. The lovely sound came again and he couldn't hold back from possessing. He strengthened his hold and thrust his lips to Dean's molding them to take from him best, dragging his tongue across the back of Dean's teeth then tangling it with the whine that passed by.

He had thought his heart couldn't slam into his ribs any harder then it had been, but he was deadly wrong. Unending joy laced with an ounce of confidence traveled through his veins as he tilted his head to accommodate Dean as he became more aggressive; ravishing Castiel's mouth from underneath, his lips never in the same place for longer than a moment.

Gripping the hair on Cas's head tighter, Dean slowly tilted his head back. A talented tongue lavished down Castiel's neck and rested against his collarbone. Teeth nipped at the flesh that covered it before a chaste kiss soothed the tinge of pain, making the pleasure that much greater.

"Dean..." Castiel started, but couldn't continue. His body stiffened slowly, becoming stone against the giving body he was pressed so intimately to.

Something had happened. Dean wasn't sure what it was, but he opened his eyes quickly and saw something akin to fear flash in Castiel's eyes before he tore away from Dean, leaving him cold. His skin flushed with cold-chills and goosebumps as one hand reached out for Cas. "Don't leave." He pleaded.

"I... I can't." Castiel turned quickly and ran from the Impala as though hell hounds were on his heels.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Sorry this took so long. My beta was moving and she couldn't get it too me any sooner. As always, reviews and comments are loved!_

Sam knew Dad was dead. It was simple fact, like if he didn't have chocolate at least twice a day he'd fight with the infomercial guy on television about whether or not Oxy Clean really did get the stains out, or that Dean would rather be stabbed in the kidney and bleed out than let Sam go outside unsupervised after eight at night. Honestly, it wasn't as if he had gone to the store and still hadn't chosen between Raisin Bran and Cherrios over the last three years. He was just gone, not there anymore.

They'd lost mom in a fire in their old home and, after such an immeasurable loss, Sam understood some of his father's actions. The constant moving around was because they couldn't find a place that felt anything like home and the silence that eclipsed the car rides from town to town were because of dad's inability to bicker and joke like he had before. The family vehicle, the Impala, was a place of continued torment; mom had picked it out and now it was their only real thing they had left of her. He even understood why Dad had hated Dean; he was, after all, the reason the fire started. Bacon grease was an excellent accelerant, but how would he have known the electrical cord was exposed?

Although the abandonment stung, Sam couldn't help but understand his dad's need to run away. Raising two sons alone after losing the love of his life couldn't have been easy, and Sam often wondered what he would have done in Dad's place.

The first week after dad had left was the easiest for Sam, which only made it hurt. Dean had gotten them to Bobby's without incident, the old man taking them in without a word. Bobby had never had kids of his own and was content with the solitude his junk yard and auto shop provided, but he opened his arms to the boys as soon as he'd seen what a wreck they were. Not knowing anything about raising two young boys, he had ex-pastor Jim come and stay for a few weeks.

Stealing them back would have been easy; Dean couldn't say no to that little boy inside himself that just wanted his daddy's approval again and if going with Dad would have pleased him, God himself couldn't stop Dean's feet from following that man out Bobby's door and into the Impala, Sammy, a grumbling mess, following not too far behind. Sam thanked God every day that Dad had never come back. Yeah, he missed him something fierce but he knew things would never be good with him.

The brothers had made a life with Bobby and Sam flourished. Never before had he made so many friends in school or done so well with homework. Dean made it a point to pray with him every night for the first few months at Bobby's, holding his hand and asking for Mom to be happy in heaven and Sam to be looked after. Always, without fail, Dean would brush his hand through Sam's hair and say mom's favorite saying, "Angel's are watching over you".

Now, at their own place, albeit so close to Bobby's they could almost spit and have it land on the old man's front lawn, they still prayed for their mom and Sam could hear Dean asking for Sam to be looked after late at night.

So yeah, Sam didn't blame his dad for how his life ended up; he thanked him. If he hadn't left, Dean wouldn't be smiling, Bobby wouldn't have inherited two kids he called 'idjits' but would fight tooth and nail to protect, and Sam... Well, Sam wouldn't be Sam.

As Dean walked back inside the church to collect Sammy and tell Jim they'd see him soon, Dean couldn't help but feel his heart break. Cas had run from him. Dean had watched him run, his deceptively slim body moving him further and further away from Dean.

Why had he run? He had been so receptive to Dean's caresses, arching into his hard body from the cool metal at his back, letting out the cutest moan when Dean had found the right spot to touch. When that heat moved away and a look of devastation came over Cas, shards of ice caressed his skin where his body had been, and when he ran Dean had never thought it was possible to be overjoyed and broken at the same time. They had just made out leaning against his baby (Dean didn't mind the few fingerprint smudges, honest), effectively making today one of the top three best ever, then poof, it was over and he was shivering cold and alone.

Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it somewhat, Dean guided Sammy to the car, reviling in the remaining tingle and pulse of his still kiss-bitten lips. He rounded the car to the drivers side and fit his own hand over Cas' handprint. Dean sighed and got in.

Was Cas angry with him? Had he crossed a line he hadn't known was there? For all he knew he had just made Cas feel like those men had.

How was he going to fix this?

Cas was avoiding him, That had to be the only reason he wasn't in school the next day, sending Dean even lower into the pit of shame his stomach muscles ached from. As he made his way home with Sammy in the passenger seat he scowled and hit the steering wheel. Maybe he'd been all wrong; maybe Cas didn't feel the same as Dean and was now too scared to tell him so. Dean was planning on apologizing to Cas as soon as Cas would let him.

Whether it burned his pride or his heart was what remained to be seen.

"Do you see it?"

Dean scoffed lightly so Sam cpouldn't hear. The kid was freaking out over a spider who had tried to make its home in their bathroom. "Oh, yeah. Seriously terrifying..." Dean obliged his brother as he unlaced his shoe slowly and went to crush the offender.

"No, Dean! Don't kill it. Bring it outside. Save it." Sam had a set of lungs on him. The plea was screeched in his ear from behind him in the doorway.

Laughing and nodding his consent Dean went into the medicine cabinet and pulled the band-aid's out of the box and returned to crouching by the invader. Taking the box carefully, he scooped it up and closed the lid. "Wanna take it out with me?"

Sammy smiled.

They set the box, opened, on the ground and tipped it slightly so the spider gently tumbled out. Dean set the band-aids back in and put the box back.

His little brother had always loved animals. Anytime there was anything in the apartment he would always want to set it free, demanding that it stay alive and happy and whole. Of course, Dean couldn't deny him. So whenever there was an insect, like a spider, that had made its way in, Sammy always ushered it back out.

Dean smiled and went to take a much needed nap before work at Ellen's bar that night.

"Father?"

Castiel entered Father's study with childlike steps, hesitant and wary of the man's wrath. He had been a mess since yesterday; drinking anything and everything he could get his fingers on. Hating to make a scene, he shut himself in his work room from the moment he had gotten up. Last night he had made Gabriel walk to the store on the corner and pick up the biggest bottle of whiskey they sold and bring it home before telling him his brother was never coming home. Father had finally grumbled his way into bed and dreams around five that morning; Castiel knew this because he had heard the screams and cries for Michael Father had been holding in all night finally be released.

The man didn't know how to grieve for his favorite son.

The sun had risen a few hours ago, sending a pallet of colors across the sky, but Castiel hadn't thought it necessary. Really, with the day brightening joyously around him, he wondered why the world hated him so much. Couldn't he have a few more hours to grieve?

He had rolled away from the window and the light not long after the black of the sky had reached a few shades darker than his eyes. Knowing school and facing Dean would be impossible he tried to sleep but memories of Michael, the Michael before Father had changed him, was what kept Castiel from letting his eyes close longer than necessary to blink. The Michael he had loved used to smile and laugh, have light shine in his eyes at something stupid Castiel would say or do – which was really, really often back then. He would always be by Castiel's side, would walk him to school on the days Father needed the car even if it meant him being late for school, and later on, work. That Michael hadn't cared.

Then Father had his first bout with alcohol... and had lost. Michael had tried so hard to fix Father. So hard, in fact, that it drove him away. Whenever Michael tried to ease the glass for Father's hand he would get yelled at, and that first time on Sunday he had done his best to cook lasagna – their mother's favorite meal – Father had smashed the glass platter on the hardwood floor. His brother had tried his best to make Father happy but it never worked no matter how hard he tried. Then, in one last ditch effort, he had enlisted. This was, of course, the absolute wrong thing to do and the old man had been furious, had banished him from the family and told him he wished he never came back.

Father always got his way in the end. Now Michael never would.

As Castiel stood in front of Father's desk, he waited for the man to look up. Just acknowledge him. A few minutes went by at a snail crawl and still he did not stop writing.

"Father?" Castiel tried again.

Heavily sighing, Father glared up at him through his eyelashes. "What, Castiel." he hadn't even respected his son to say it as a question, instead leaving it as a heavy handed command.

"I know you're hurting..." He began, but Father was having none of that.

"You... know nothing about how I feel." A deep, feral growl grated out of the older male's throat, an animals warning to tread carefully.

"Father, I just want to help..."

"And how would you do that, Castiel? How could you possibly help me?" He scoffed as a rush of wind entered through the fully open window and tossed his freshly organized papers. "Fucking weather."

Castiel slumped, feeling slightly defeated. Never had this man, even after mother passed, sworn as much as he did since the news of his brother. Likewise, never had he treated Castiel so badly. As Father reached over to shut the window an earsplitting thunder rumble rolled across the air making him crouch down a little to make himself smaller.

"Please, dad." The hopelessness in those words made him hunch his body in defeat.

Father stilled, his robes going starched stiff at the shoulders with his tension. "What?" The voice was clipped, the last letter coming out as its own syllable. "What did you call me?"

Not knowing what would take back the words Castiel tried backing out of the gaping cavern he had dug himself another shovel full from. "Nothing, Sir."

"Don't you dare think to call me... that. That word means there is love between father and son. It's a privilege you have never earned. Why would you... you are no son of mine!" Lightening shot across the sky, lighting the room behind Father and giving him an angelic white almost halo.

Castiel gulped hard. He tried to back away slowly, one shaky foot after the other, hands coming up palm out to show that he was no threat, but Father's eyes gleamed with mischief and grief. A mouse had fallen into the cobra's line of vision and pissed it off.

At the end of a soul-broken sigh Father whispered, "God is testing my patience." He couldn't keep his hands still so he rubbed them on his pant legs to try and dry his palms.

Castiel stood silently.

"It should have been you."

Gravel must have choked the man while he had been sulking because his voice had become dangerously broken. "Michael should have come home. It was _you_ who was meant to die."

As the first blow landed on Castiel's pale skin, he was beginning to believe it too.

"St-stop it, Dean!"

The snot-rag had woken him up a half hour before he'd set the alarm and Dean wasn't pissed. However, he'd done it by catapolting himself onto Dean then scrambling away and out of the room before Dean could huff the air out of his lungs in a whoosh. He yawned, stifling the sound with the back of his hand. Scratching his bare chest absently and smacking his lips together a few times, he let his legs hang off the bed for a moment, letting Sammy have a head start. After wiping the sleep from his eyes he'd run after his brother.

Now Sammy's squeals just pushed Dean on, wriggling his fingers in the boy's sides, lifting him up with his legs kicking as if that would get him freedom. He gave a very undignified squawk before he giggled again. "De-hehe-he-an!"

Pulling the little body flush against his chest Dean wrapped his arms around his brothers waist and held him close. "I don't care how old you are, you will say it." The demand was given in a playful growl, sly fingers tapping the ticklish sides of Sam.

Sammy let out a sigh and whined. "Aw, come on! Seriously?" His fake annoyance was overridden by the wicked smile on his face. "Fine! Let me go and I'll tell you."

Harrumphing, Dean released his death grip.

Sam cackled as he ran from his brother, just making it out of arms reach as Dean swiped an arm out to snatch him back. He made it to the other side of the couch before he turned around with his tongue stuck out. "Loser!"

"Sammy!"

"What?" Sammy was being a little snot and he knew it if the smirk on his face was anything to go by. "I'll tell you what." Launching himself over the back of the stained furniture piece he tackled Sam, wrapping himself around his brother as they landed on the floor. Squirming, Sam tried to get away again. Dean simply held him closer and smacked his smiling lips against his brother's cheek. "Love ya, Sammy."

He made a big show of wiping his face but Sam was smiling too. "Love you too, Jerk."

Dean snorted (a very, very manly, dignified snort of course), and went to get the bowls down for a cereal dinner. "Lucky Charms or Cherr..." A knocking sound stopped him mid sentence. "You invite someone over, Sammy?"

At his brother's shake of the head and another hesitant, barely there knock sounded, he set the Lucky Charms in Sammy's outstretched grabby hands (seriously, why did he even ask?), and unlocked the door before opening it.

The first thing he noticed, an obvious observation, was Castiel. The second was that Castiel did not look any kind of okay. There was a cut above his right eye that dribbled blood down his face and into the split in his lip. His nose was still bleeding from a punch, but the rain was washing most of the red away from his entire face. The slim hips were clutched on either side by his arms that were crossed in front of him as though he was still trying to protect his body from an assault and his shoulders slouched forward, trying to make his already smaller stance shorter. Blue eyes were pale, an unnerving pastel blue that sent shivers through Dean; they were the eyes of the defeated.

"May I come in, Dean?"

God, that voice. His flat, fallen, couldn't-care-one-way-or-the-other tone carved away at Dean's heart, but his eyes were unable to hide the tiny flash of hope for a safe place. The request came out uninterested, but when it came to Dean's name the pain was unbearable, his defenses gone as though retched from him with such great force they left him hollow. A shell.

"Cas..." Dean started to extend his hand toward Cas, his own eyes beginning to shine as he saw Cas the same way he had been when he was attacked the first time, but Dean saw him flinch slightly.

"Don't." The uncertain shaking in the words broke Dean's already cracked heart. "Please." A more assertive, assured voice said. "May I come in?"

"Will you stay this time?"

Castiel looked at his feet as a sob shuddered his bowed body. As he raised his head and Dean got a new view of his face, Castiel fell forward, gripping Dean's shirt in shaky hands and resting his head in the crook of his warm neck. Another shudder traveled through Castiel as Dean pulled him in tight, uncaring of the sopping wet clothes. Warm breath fell in waves against Dean's skin that only made him clutch Cas tighter. Blood wet lips touched his ear as he felt more than heard Cas say, "Yes."


End file.
